We're Going Home
by HetaliaUSUKcp-MomoChan
Summary: In the middle of WW2, a young American solider named Alfred is the first to break Arthur's quiet shell. As they go more into war, Arthur finds himself not only befriending the young solider, but even falling in love with him. Their platoon moves out, settling into new war zones, but facing the truth though, any second could be their last, and he doesn't want to lose him.
1. Chapter 1

We're going home

Chapter 1: Nice to meet you

_December 7, 1941, the Japanese bomb Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, causing the United States to declare war on Germany and enter the war in Europe. American troops soon arrived in the battle field on the Ally's side in 1942._

_Middle December _

An young, bright blonde haired, American soldier jumped in to safety, his helmet falling off in the process. He slid down the dirt wall of the trench and dropped his gun down for only a minute. He looked around a bit as other soldiers prepared them selves, some shooting still, some completely motionless, like the British solider next to him. He silently stood against the wall, clutching onto his weapon, not in panic or fear but calmly. The American looked at him as he took his coat off a bit to reveal his pale brown uniform. He kept looking at the solider next to him, thinking he could have been shell-shocked like another young man he saw before; he looked up at the sky. "Even here, the snow is still beautiful." He said, watching each snow flake fall. He looked back at the solider to see if he responded, the Brit had peeked over at him. "You speak English?"

"Yes, I do." He said.

"Oh! Good! You speak!" The American gave a smile as the Brit ignored him and turned his attention to something else. The American looked over at him, trying to get his attention, the Brit looked at him a little more. "You have bright colored eyes, I haven't seen anyone with that bright of green before." The Brit turned his head back to him.

"Please stop talking to me." He said. "Put your helmet back on too, you'll get killed you git."

"I was only trying to chat." The American strapped his helmet back on. "And what is a git?" The Brit ignored him again. "So um… How long have you been out here?"

"Three years."

"Damn, seriously?" The American was in shock. "I've only been out here for a few months… you must of seen a lot huh?" The Brit nodded. "No wonder you're so quiet."

"What do you want from me?" The Brit said, clearly getting annoyed.

"Nothing, I just want to talk." The American gave a little pout. "There's nothing wrong with that right? Even out here?" The Brit sighed, he gave up and turned himself to the American, who smiled. "I'm Alfred F. Jones, nice to meet ya." He put his hand out.

"Arthur Kirkland." The Brit shook the young man's hand. "American huh?" He could just tell.

"That's right!" Alfred smiled. "I'm from Texas. What about you? You French?"

"Bloody hell no!" Arthur got annoyed. "I'm British you twit!"

"Oh…Wow, the British really do say bloody, Haha~" Alfred smirked. "So like, where you from? Like, a city, cause I know British means England right?"

"I'm from London. Where are you from in your…_Texas_?"

"Dallas." Alfred started buttoning his coat again with the realize of the cold wind. "So, how old are you?"

"It's rude to ask someone's age, especially when you just met them."

"Well I'm nineteen."

Arthur got a sad look. "You're young… You were drafted, correct?"

"Nope, I joined."

"W-What? Why would you join the army? Don't you get that war isn't a game boy?" Arthur yelled a bit.

"Trust me, I know that. But I have my reasons for joining."

"Oh? And what would they be?"

"Well, to help stop the war for one." Alfred spoke with such confidence. "Hey, you still didn't tell me your age! Don't get out of it, you sneak." He joked a bit.

"Fine, I'm twenty-three." Arthur said. "Happy now?"

"You're old."

"You're rude!"

Alfred laughed. "Hey calm down Artie."

"A-Artie?" Arthur questioned. "I'm not your friend, please don't give me a nickname."

"Fine," Alfred pouted a bit. "You can call me Al, that's what my bro calls me anyway. My friends call me Alfie, or even Ally to piss me off."

"Good to know…" Arthur looked away a bit. "So, I'm assuming you're in my platoon yes?"

"I think so, I was told to stay with that guy." Alfred pointed to another solider. Arthur looked over, one of the so-called leaders of the group, a average size man with long blonde hair, he was obviously French, which Arthur was a bit mad about. "They just threw us all together huh? Not very organized."

"It could have been last minute." Arthur commented. "I mean, I was switched multiple times throughout platoons. I've been in a platoon of all French soldiers before… They didn't speak English."

"That must have been bad."

"It was."

Alfred stretched his arms out a bit. "They haven't been firing; it's all silent."

"Yes I know." Arthur said. Alfred turned himself around, Arthur watched as the boy, stupidly, started to peek out of the ditch. Arthur's eyes widen and he quickly grabbed the American and pulled him back down. "You twit! You do that and you're dead!"

"But they stopped-"

"That means _nothing_! They are still there! They will fire if they see your bloody head!" Arthur yelled. Alfred looked at him and slowly got out of the Brit's grip, sliding back down against the dirt wall and staying quiet.

"Sorry…" He said. "I'm sorry…"

"J-Just…" Arthur looked away. "Be careful…"

"You two!" The French man yelled from down the trench. The two of them sprung up a bit and looked down. "Come on! We're moving out of here." His accent was heavy, it was obvious he had recently learned English.

"W-we're moving out?" Arthur asked, it seemed they always moved to different areas every time they were just getting comfortable with the newest one.

"Oui, that's right." The French man explained. "We've been ordered to start heading to Morocco."

"Where the hell is that?" Alfred looked toward the Brit.

"It's in bloody Africa, it'll take days just to get there… Never mind in the middle of war." Arthur watched himself as he stood up and started for the rest of the platoon. Alfred, not as carefully, quickly followed behind.

"Hey Arthur."

"What do you want now?"

"Can I keep talking to you?" Alfred asked, Arthur looked toward him. "We're not friends, but it'll be nice to have some kind of friend out here, you know?"

"You don't make friends out here lad." Arthur got a sad look. "You'll get attached, and you'll lose them."

"Can I just keep talking to you then?" Alfred asked. "We don't have to be friends, I just want someone to talk to." _You're a strange man, _Arthur thought. He looked at the American, he was smiling with confidence, he was so young, _naïve. _"Please, Arthur?"

_It's nice to talk to _someone_, _he thought. Arthur didn't return the smile, he didn't let down his serious face, but he nodded, "Fine."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Such a strange man

_Dear Mattie,_

_I can't really tell you where we are, not with the censors, but let's just say… It's hot as hell…. _

_I'm still safe : ) nothing yet~ We seem to be moving pretty easily and we've only lost one or two people, it was from diseases bro so don't worry to much, you know your big brother is stronger than that~ _

_On to good news! Mattie, I met this British solider, he's from London and he has a funny accent and everything (and the British really do say "bloody" a lot!) He's a little on edge, he's been out here for a really long time, but he said we can talk to each other when ever we want to, which is nice cause it gets kinda lonely out here. Oh! His name is Arthur by the way, kinda like some king huh? Haha~ I wonder if I should start calling him "king Arthur" haha~ _

_Now to finish this off cause I don't have much time to write! I hope you and mom are doing okay, you better be doing good in school cause if your not I'll take your hockey stick away and beat you with it! Just kidding… Or am I! ? Who knows~ (See~ I still got humor~) Make sure you still take care of mom though, and work out the farming okay? I promise I'll come home soon~ After this Hero finishes the war for the Allies! Hahaha! _

_Love ya, your big brother Al~ _

_PS. Sorry I missed your birthday, I'll be home for the next one, promise. _

OOO

"What are those letters that you keep writing?" Arthur asked, Alfred looked up a bit from the paper. "You have a sweet-heart back at home huh lad?"

Alfred smiled a bit. "Nope, it's for my little bro. I told him I would write to him when I could, to tell him I was okay and stuff."

"You have a brother?"

"Yeah! I told you that remember? When we were crossing over that river."

"I was too busy trying to cross than listen to you, sorry." Arthur said with a bit of sarcasm, which Alfred obviously didn't get.

"No problem, it's okay." Alfred said and folded up the letter as Arthur rolled his eyes a bit. "His name is Matthew."

"That's a nice name, how old is the lad?"

"He just turned sixteen." Alfred frowned a bit.

"W-Why are frowning?"

"Cause, he's gonna be old enough for the draft soon, eighteen." Alfred sat back a bit against the tent, trying not to lean all of his weight on it so it wouldn't collapse. "He hates fighting, he wouldn't even last a day out here."

"Yes, well," Arthur had frowned a bit too, he could tell Alfred cared very much for his little brother, unlike his own family. He felt a bit sorry for the lad, he wanted to cheer him up a bit, "With you Americans helping us, this war will end quickly." Alfred looked up and smiled a bit.

"Heh, are you giving us, including me, Americans, a compliment Mr. Kirkland?"

Arthur grinned a bit. "I suppose I am." He laid down and put his head on his bag. "Alfred I'm going to try to sleep now, alright?"

"But I'm not tired."

"Then you can keep yourself awake. It's late, I'm tired, I'm going to bed."

"But I have no one to talk to then." Alfred pouted.

"What about the other lad in the tent with us?" Arthur looked over to find the young brown-haired solider sleeping.

"He's already out bro." Alfred said. "Just a little longer, please?"

"You're gonna regret staying up when we run into a battle tomorrow." Arthur glared a bit. "You need sleep, it helps your body, yes?"

"Yeah well my body is already healthy enough and I'm not sleepy."

"To bad. I'm not talking anymore." Arthur moved a bit to his side and closed his eyes.

"Yes you will. You didn't follow though last time, you won't follow though this time." Alfred said, Arthur didn't answer. "Yo. Artie." Still no answer. "Artie~" He stretched out the annoying nickname for the Brit, but there was still no movement or answer. Alfred blinked and peeked over a bit to see his face. "Arthur?" _no way, _he's fast asleep! Alfred pouted and fell back. "Fine, I'll sleep too…Hmph." He pouted, got comfortable, and closed his eyes, quickly falling asleep.

OOO

"It's hot." Alfred wiped sweat dripping down from under his helmet.

"It's Africa. Of course it's hot." Arthur said.

"You!" The French commander yelled from a far. "Let's go! This way!"

"Y-Yes sir." Arthur said, he shot a look toward the American as he quickly made his way over to the commander with some of the other men, Alfred was the last to go over. "Excuse me, um, commander-"

"Bonnefoy." The commander interrupted.

"I-I'm sorry?"

"My name, Bonnefoy. Francis Bonnefoy."

"R-Right, can you please explain our orders?"

"We're going in with no sense of where we're going or what we're doing!" Another British solider yelled.

"Right, gather round them." Francis said. "We've been told to head for the Tunisian border."

"Where the hell is that?" Alfred whispered to Arthur as the commander continued talking. Arthur tried paying attention, listening to every word, but he glanced over to Alfred.

"It's Tunisia." Arthur whispered.

Alfred got a stupid look. "Where the hell is that?" He whispered back. Arthur rolled his eyes, _you Americans really have no sense of the world, do you? _

"It's by Algeria."

"And where's that?"

"By the Mediterranean Sea."

"And that is?…"

Arthur shot a look at him. "It's in Africa you Yank! !" Arthur yelled in the middle of the meeting. The small group of soldiers looked over toward the two of them, Arthur trying to look away in embarrassment, as Alfred smiled nervously.

"You two!" Francis yelled. "This is important information!"

"Y-Yes sir, Sorry sir." Arthur said looking down, Alfred looked away too.

"Alright. Let's start moving out!" Francis yelled, the soldiers could barely understand the words coming out of his mouth, his accent was too strong, but they started moving, Arthur and Alfred followed out, until the commander grabbed onto Arthur's arm. "You will have to make up for this," Francis told him, Alfred had stopped walking to wait up for the Brit. Francis pulled the Brit closer and whispered into his ear. "With your body~ Hon hon~" Arthur's face turned red and quickly got away.

"You French Frog!" He yelled, Alfred got a stupid look on his face as he saw this unfold.

"Frog! ? How dare you call your commander a Frog!" Francis yelled.

"How dare _you_ try to get me to sleep with you!" Arthur yelled, Alfred's mouth dropped a bit. "This isn't the time!" Francis gave a dirty look and started to walk away with his head up high. Arthur gave a growl toward him and angrily watched him walk away.

"…You should of took the offer~" Alfred laughed, Arthur's mouth dropped now as he looked toward the American, completely puzzled.

It took days to get anywhere with this group, the British soldiers could barely get along with the French. Alfred could laugh about the small arguments between Arthur and a few French soldiers, especially Francis. For some reason, Arthur just couldn't stand Francis, the simple things to commander did made him mad. He whispered comments under his breath about the way Francis walked or set up a tent or ate, Alfred could hear every word and he smirked and laughed a bit under his breath too.

Days turned into weeks as the platoon struggled to get through to the Tunisian border. Arthur listed to Alfred chat about the wonderful tales of his home, asking the Brit the most random questions like "Are English muffins really from England?", and he watched as the American wrote his letters to his brother back at home. It would be the last night before an attack where Arthur would be able to just breathe, relax, and thank whoever was helping him stay alive for so long. He looked toward the young American writing another letter, one that he had to put off until now because of so much traveling. "What do you tell your brother anyway?" Arthur questioned.

Alfred smiled and looked up at him. "Everything I can, I can't say where we are or anything, but I just tell him that I'm okay, and how hot it is, and how the platoon is doing, and even about you."

"About me?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Why would you right about me? What could you possibly have to tell about me?"

"Well, you're British, pretty damn serious but also pretty funny, you're probably a good shot, you talk to me instead of ignoring me like the other soldiers, and I could even say you saved my life."

"I saved your life?"

"Yeah, in two ways." Alfred said. "One was when you pulled me back down in the trenches, I could have been shot right in the forehead like you said."

"Aye, right, and the other?"

"You keep talking to me." Alfred smiled. "You keep me sane and smiling you know?" Arthur looked at him curiously. "It's easy for someone to go mad out here, how many soldiers have you seen go into sell shock?" Arthur frowned. "A lot huh? If you just have one person caring about you and talking to you, it could save your life, sanity wise anyway." Arthur still looked at him. _You're such a strange young man…. _

It felt nice to talk… Arthur found it a bit cheerful, he realized it kept him sane as well… but each time the two talked, he couldn't help but keep in the back of his mind, that the next conversation, any at all, could be their last….

Gunshots fired again, machine guns fired their hundreds of bullets toward the enemy as the soldiers attempted to get around, duck and cover, and fire their weapons back. Their platoon joined up with a group of American soldiers who had been fighting for months, as long as it took their platoon to get there. Thousands of miles walking and the numinous small battles didn't matter now, this was the one that would be put in the books, or at least that's what Francis said.

They caught up with the Americans and almost immediately began fighting. Arthur almost lunged to get into the battle, he always seemed to put himself out there, or at least that's what Alfred thought. But whenever there was a battle, it seemed Arthur took the life-threatening moves and attacks. Alfred tried to keep up, he knew what it was like to take these risks, but he would endanger the others and he couldn't do that; _heroes_ were suppose to save lives.

Arthur reloaded his gun once again as he ducked inside a man-made ditch, made by a few of the Americans during the night to get closer and closer to the enemy. He ducked down as gunshots fired above over his head, he quickly got up and began shooting as many times as he could before almost getting shot himself. He looked around a bit, no sight of the young American he talked to, he could only hope Alfred was okay. _No_, he shook his head, _stop thinking of him, concentrate_. He reloaded his gun once more but the horrible thought came back, this was a big battle, what if Alfred had…

He shook his head, _no shut up, stop thinking about it._ He tried focusing on his reload once again but he continued getting distracted, this is why he isolated himself from the other soldiers. This very reason of questions of what if and how would distract him, he couldn't deal with two things on his mind. Unless war was on your mind, you were as good as dead, that's what his brother used to say. His thinking came to a pause when someone else fell into the ditch, not who he wanted to see though. A dark brown haired man fell in, his face bloodied and in pain. Arthur jumped away as the man coughed up a large amount of blood and tried reaching out for help, even though he was an enemy. Arthur stayed away as far as he could in the small ditch, he even shivered a bit at the sight. The young man fell forward, his head dangling now, as he took his last breath.

Arthur gulped, it wasn't the first time he saw someone die out here, but it was the closest he came to it. He continued to stare at the man for a minute or two before trying to do anything else. He debated in his head whether he should try to take the enemy's weapons, but no, he couldn't get his hands to move to do so; it felt too wrong. He shivered a bit and tried getting out of the ditch only to find a few of the Axis coming his way. Shots began to fire right over his head, he ducked as another man jumped into the ditch; this time he wouldn't be so lucky. The enemy lunged at him quickly and hit him over the side of his head with the back of his gun, hoping to either kill or at least knock him out, but it didn't. Arthur quickly shot off his gun toward the enemy, he fell right to his feet. Arthur gulped and tried getting away but his back was already to the end. He couldn't remember the last time he felt like this, shaking out of fear and with no where else to go. He simply didn't know what to do or how to handle this, his own blood dripped down the side of his head.

But the sudden sound of cheering knocked him out of his small shock. He looked up out of the ditch but only could see the sky, cheering continued. He tried to climb out but his hands shook and he fell again. He tried wiping the blood away with his sleeve and tried again, until someone reached their hand in. Arthur looked up to a bit of a happy surprise, Alfred reached his hand in for Arthur to grab onto. He hesitated at first but quickly grabbed on and allowed the American to lift him out. He looked around to see the Americans and his platoon cheering with all excitement, throwing their helmets around, laughing, cheering more, and some even praying. "Hey Artie," Alfred's voice calmed him a bit as he looked toward the American. "We won."


End file.
